


Dear Bucky

by thatonedudewiththename



Series: winter, wings, shields, and guns [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Winter Soldier (movie)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Happy Ending, Podfic Length: 0-10 Minutes, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 02:50:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1452691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonedudewiththename/pseuds/thatonedudewiththename
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky finds Steve at the Captain America Memorial in the Smithsonian Museum after living on the streets for weeks. When Steve takes him home, he finds a letter Steve had written to him when he'd first defrosted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Bucky

**Author's Note:**

> A remix of a text I sent to my friend.  
> Now includes the podfic.

Podfic: [Length: 8 min. 9 sec.](http://www.mediafire.com/watch/pt6x7nx49njafqt/Dear_Bucky.m4a)

After Hydra's division in S.H.I.E.L.D was taken down, Bucky lived on the street, out of the view of the populus. At least, that's what he thought. For a while, he left other people alone; barely eating, hood up, greasy, long hair now shorn somewhat like Steve's.  
Steve. He couldn't stop thinking about that guy. Memories repeatedly popped up, mostly in his dreams but more frequently when he visited the Captain America memorial, reading and rereading his bio. "James Bucanan Barnes," he's whispered when he first visited the memorial. Steve had gotten his name right.  
He'd seen Steve there, sometimes, staring at the picture of his best friend.

One night, close to closing time, as he watched Steve from afar, he had the urge to go up and hug him. Just really, _hug_ the man he'd grown to know from his face invading his dreams (not that they were unpleasant). So he did, cautiously. He took a few steps up to him, tapped him on the shoulder for general warning (the guy could really pack a punch), and then hugged him. For the longest time. It felt... normal.  
Steve, after realising seconds later _who_ was hugging him, replied in kind (tightly). When Bucky pulled away, Steve's blue cotton t-shirt was stained a darker blue from tears. "Bucky," Steve said breathlessly (the metal arm had squeezed his ribcage), "do you need a... place to stay?"  
Bucky wanted to say yes. Although he'd only met the man what, twice? and saved his life, he'd spent weeks dreaming of their lives and thinking endlessly on it, on _them_ , he felt he could trust him. That he was the only person he _could_ trust. So he said, "Yeah."  
But then, just to make sure, he asked, "Will you be there," a pause, "St-Steve?"  
Bucky watched as Steve let out a laugh that was more of a harsh rush of air and started to cry. It hurt a little, until he heard what the guy said next. "Yes," Steve nodded, running a hand through his short blond hair and sniffling. "Yes, Bucky, I'll be there."

The house was nice. Sam was nice, about as judgemental of Bucky as a sack of flour is to an orange. He let Bucky use his bathroom, gave him his privacy, leaving he and Steve alone together to do... whatever it is they had to. They didn't really talk; Sam would try to have a conversation with both of them, but either Bucky or Steve would reply. Never both. After a few days, Sam gave up trying.  
Everytime Steve went out for a run, Bucky would go with him, probably the only person who could keep up with him. Somehow, they would always manage to end up at the bridge, standing side-by-side staring out at the water. "I missed you, Steve." Bucky told Steve out of the blue.  
Steve's head whipped around to face his longtime best friend so fast his neck popped, eyes beginning to water and mouth open just the smallest bit. Bucky, however, was still staring out at the water, but his eyebrows were dipped and tears were dripping from his cheeks onto the sidewalk. "Bucky," Steve hugged his old friend, "I've missed you, too."

Bucky was home alone when he found it. He was trying to get the extra blankets from the top shelf of Steve's room when a box on top fell down into his arms along with the blankets. The lid had popped off a bit, and inside Bucky could see pictures and papers. He frowned, turned to the bed, set down the blankets with the box on top, pushing the lid off onto the bed. Inside, there were indeed papers and pictures as well as a letter that said on the envelope simply, "Bucky". He didn't remember reading a letter, but then he didn't remember a lot of things. Tilting his head, he turned the envelope around and slid his metal thumb under the flap to open it, folding it back to take out the letter inside. The envelope fell to the floor, he gingerly unfolding the letter to read it.  
 _Dear Bucky,_  
 _70 years. 70 years since you died, and I didn't have to live a second of it; I already had the moment you fell from the train._  
 _I'm so sorry for getting you into all of that. I should've known something would happen to you, but for it to be my fault.._.  
The next few words were smudged by tears, and Bucky couldn't make them out.  
 _... nightmares about you dying for weeks afterwards. If it hadn't been for the serum, I would've become an alcoholic._  
 _I miss you so much, Bucky. Sometimes I think I hear your voice, in the back of my mind, or see you just barely on the edge of my vision. Sometimes I would talk to you, and you would answer me! We talked about us, times long since passed, about the technology now and Howard and Tony Stark, just life. I just_  
A tear fell onto the letter, and Bucky quickly wiped it away and kept reading.  
 _wanted you to be there with me, even if I knew it wasn't healthy. You'd always been there for me, but I wasn't there when you needed me the most. I'm so sorry, Bucky. James, I'm so, so unbelievably sorry. Words cannot express the guilt I feel for what happened; I suppose I'll just have to keep apologising, until you really understand._  
 _I'm sorry. I love you, Bucky._  
 _Yours,_  
 _\- Steve_  
The bedroom door swung open with a slight creak. Bucky lifted his tear-stained face to it, seeing Steve standing there in a hoodie and jeans. His eyes went from the letter, to the box, and then to his friend, his mouth opening to speak. "You found it." He muttered.  
Bucky nodded and stood up, the letter slipping from his fingers to the floor with a soft rustle. He took three steps up to Steve and stared into his eyes with sadness and a deep, resonating love that echoed from the times of their life all those years ago. "I forgive you." He said in a cracking voice. His face screwed up, saliva, tears, and snot running down his face as he went on, "And I l-" a sob broke his sentence and he lowered his face to try and collect himself. "And I love you too, Steve."  
Steve smiled and let out that rush-of-air laugh again, tears of joy watering in his eyes. He opened his arms to his friend, who accepted immediately and hugged him tight (though cautious of his metal arm). "Bucky," Steve sighed, "Bucky Bucky Bucky." It felt so good to finally say that name knowing his friend was alive and remembered who he was. "Welcome home, Bucky."  
"Steve," Bucky whispered. He closed his eyes, his hands tightening their grip on Steve's shirt. "Steve, Steve Steve Steve." The name was bittersweet on his tongue; an aftertaste from a long time ago, but refreshing, like from a memory, or a dream. It was... nice. "I've missed you."  
"I've missed you, too."  
Sam opened the front door and was about to head to the kitchen to get a drink of water when he heard a laugh that wasn't Steve's. Furrowing his brows and cocking his head a little, he turned to the hallway and down to Steve's room to find Steve and Bucky holding each other's shoulders with tears and smiles on their faces. Sam smiled and laughed lightly, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Patting the wall a couple times, he turned around and walked away.

_Fin_


End file.
